with love, lovino vargas
by dellums
Summary: A box of Lovino's belongings, Elizabeta's house, a tomato pincushion, and one pair of stylishly-ripped pants: the making of an embarrassing afternoon.


_[A/N]_

**_edit:_**** thanks to Allied Forces for helping me with my godawful Spanish!**

_This is just in case I don't meet the Thanksgiving-deadline for _**Diaries are for girls, and guys named Alfred**_, because I don't believe in myself, honestly alelgfwljfdm_

_Warning: Lovi's language and Spain's random overuse of "~" in his sentences, which is impossible to pronounce, by the way._

_Also, I will eventually write something Spamano-y that _isn't_ first person from Lovi's POV. I promise._

* * *

**property.**

So, it was sometime around three in the afternoon when Antonio grabbed me by the wrist and blabbered something about how I was "so, so cute" and that Elizabeta was waiting for us.

That last statement alone was enough to send me into cardiac arrest and I almost _ripped my fucking arm_ out of its socket trying to get away from Antonio. Apparently the bastard forgot to mention that he was inhumanly quick when I... m-moved in with him last spring, so he caught up to me and threw me over his shoulder, hauling me away to wherever the hell he was thinking of this time.

It's not that I was scared - I was fucking _terrified. _Everyone knew Elizabeta was a Class-A ladyperv. I swear to god, she has a locked folder on her desktop that.. just... _no one_ should ever lay eyes on it if they wish to lead a normal life. And it's not like she even tries to hide it or anything. She practically _flaunts_ her weird little gayporn-kink, and then bashes anyone's skulls in if they dare comment distastefully on it.

Fucking weird.

Anyway. Antonio chucked me into the passenger seat of his - gorgeous, red, beautiful, sleek, _shiny, leathery_- Ferrari that I had seduc - I mean... _c-convinced_ him to buy, and then started driving.

"So, jackass, where are we going?"

He grinned in a way so blindingly bright that made me wonder how many times a day he brushed his teeth. "We're meeting Elizabeta."

I sighed. "_Why_?"

"Aww, it's a secret, Lovinito~ It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise, would it?" He then decided it would be a fabulous idea to _take his hands off the steering wheel_ just so he could pinch my cheeks - which I hate, by the way!

The car kind of swerved into the lane next to us, and we almost got raped by some giantass American monster truck. It's a good thing I'm such a fucking amazing mofo that I grabbed the wheel and got us back on track, though.

Of course, Antonio just laughed like he got a question wrong on a pop quiz or something, and I resisted the urge to smack him in the face - one near-death experience a day is fine by me, thanks.

It only took about fifteen minutes before he finally parked the car in front of what I assumed was Elizabeta's house. I'd never actually been there before, but Feliciano had. It was big and giant and had shiny windows and everything was a nice cream color. I don't know why that really mattered, but I noticed anyway.

"Come on, Lovi~" Antonio called, halfway to the porch. He grinned at me and I grumbled, following, but not without stomping my feet angrily.

"Are you going to tell me why we're here yet?" I asked him as he knocked politely on the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. God, he was like a child, dammit.

He smiled at me in that annoyingly Spanish way of his and said, "When you were little and Roderich gave you over to me, he forgot to give me some of your old things. Elizabeta said she found a box that said "Romano's Stuff" on it when she was cleaning the other day, and asked if I wanted to come pick it up."

"That's why I'm here? You couldn't have possibly done this by yourself?" I stared at him incredulously, wondering how much of his head consisted of actual _brain_ as opposed to empty space.

He seemed to think for a moment before shrugging and grinning. Again. "Well, it is your stuff, _mi tomate _(my tomato), I figured you wanted to see it."

I was about to ask him why the hell I would want a box of my baby things that had probably dissolved into dust by now, you idiot, and I am _not_ your tomato, but the door swung open and Elizabeta gestured for us to come inside happily. I pushed past Antonio, briefly offering the Hungarian woman a facial expression that was as close to a smile as I would ever get. After all, she wasn't bad on the eyes, that's for sure.

Antonio and Elizabeta exchanged "hello"s and "how are you?"s at the door and I ambled around inside in a way that wasn't nosy at all.

Eventually, they were done being mushy and girly and entered the room I was in, which seemed to be a family room.

"Oh!" Elizabeta lifted her floofy dress and hurried over to a glass coffee table, picking up a shoebox that I hadn't even noticed. "Here, this is yours, Lovino." She smiled at me and pushed it into my arms. "I didn't look through it, but you can now, if you want. I have to finish cleaning upstairs." Elizabeta excused herself and disappeared down a hall.

Antonio emanated sunshine and sat down on the leathery couch, patting the cushion next to him. "Come, _ siéntete _(sit down), Lovi~"

And since I had nothing else to do and I was getting pretty tired of standing, I did as he said and sat down, which seemed to be a bad idea because he just got even happier and started bouncing up and down. "Well? Are you gonna open it?"

"Yeah, yeah, calm your dick," I mumbled at him, smacking away his hands when he reached over to open the box himself. I pulled the worn-out lid off and tossed it aside, digging through the contents of the box.

A tomato pincushion - stolen from Elizabeta's room. (Antonio immediately grabbed it, crooning about how cute it was. Moron.)

A piece of paper with Portugal's phone number on it - n-now how did that get there...? Ahaha... A-anyway...

An old, out-dated volume of _Playboy_ - a gift to Roderich from Gilbert, stolen by me.

Sheet music - taken skillfully when Roderich was molesting his piano. (It had taken him days of searching for it before finally giving up. What a loser.)

And... what was this? I blinked at the sheet of notebook paper, folded in half. The crease was thin, like it had been opened and re-folded many times. I frowned thoughtfully and unfolded it once more.

... I could _feel_ my stupid, emotion-betraying face heating up and turning red as I scanned ... the l-love letter...

What the hell! I didn't write this! No way! The testosterone in my body gagged with each terrible, fluffy word on the paper. _... with you forever... don't leave... _ti amo (I love you)_... love. Love._

And all the way down, at the bottom of the page, was an innocent little, _Love Lovino Vargas, you stupid tomato bastard_.

What was worse was the fact that I recognized the handwriting. I recognized it as _my own_.

Oh god.

"Lovi? Are you okay? Heeey, what's that you're holding~?"

I nearly jumped up and ran away when Antonio started talking. Apparently he could feel my face burning up as well, because he looked all concerned and w-worried, dammit!

"Nothing, asshole! Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!" I tried to tear up the offensive paper, but I couldn't. For some _stupidretardedfuckedup_ reason, I couldn't.

Antonio looked at me like I had kicked a sick puppy off the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Fuckdammit, I hated it when he looked at me like that!

A whine escaped him and he pouted. "Looov_iiii_, why can't I see it? Is it a letter? You don't have to be embarrassed if it is~" Antonio moved closer, tomato-shaped pincushion forgotten with the rest of the items in my box.

"I'm not embarrassed, stupid bastard! G-get away from me, dammit!" I struggled against his arms, trying to keep the paper out of his reach as he practically _climbed on top of me_ just to get to it.

"If it's nothing to be embarrassed about, why can't I see? Come on, just one little, tiny peek~ You can trust Boss, can't you?"

And then I stuffed the paper into my pants.

And remembered this was _Antonio_ I was dealing with. Antonio, who didn't know the meaning of personal space. Antonio, who was perfectly okay with tearing open my pants without a second thought.

And, as assumed, he did just that.

It wasn't until after I screamed and tried to kick him in the face did I realize, _We are in Elizabeta's house. _And after that, my thoughts kind of rolled together. _... Elizabeta's house... Antonio... on top... video cameras... no pants... vulnerable hair curl... love letter..._

I blinked once to clear my mind, and when I opened my eyes, Antonio was reading the letter, lips curling into a happy little smirk.

"Lovi..."

"Don't," I warned him. "Don't you _dare_ say anything. I will _castrate _you five times and dropkick you all the way to Arthur's doorstep if you do. So _don't_ say _anything_."

But once again, I seemed to forget that I was talking to Antonio. The threat flew right over his head and he attacked me in an over dramatic bear hug, laced with sloppy kisses all over my face and happy "I love you"s.

"Ahh, Lovi! I'm so happy you said all those kind things about me~ Even as a little kid, you liked me!You're so sweet, my lovely little Lovi, my lovely, lovely Lovi!" He squished our faces together and hugged me so tight I felt like my guts were going to come out of my body.

But... d-dammit, he was really warm... and he always did give th-the best h-hugs...

I may or may not have hugged him back a little bit. Maybe.

A-and it's not like I'm so emotionally-confused that I started ... c-crying or anything... O-of course not, that's stupid...

* * *

We went home after that because I really needed some pants that didn't have a giant, gaping hole in the crotch, and Elizabeta had told us that she was having company over soon. She seemed very amused at my aforementioned pants, and I flipped her off. Forget what I said about her being hot; she creeps me the hell out.

I told Antonio to throw the letter away before I set his _face_ on fire, but he just laughed cheerfully. As usual. And then he tucked the paper carefully away into his pocket, holding onto my hand with his own empty one.

"Lovi, you know you don't have to be embarrassed by the letter, right~?"

I gave him a glare that I concentrated hard on producing. "I'm not embarrassed. I wrote it when I was, like, eight years old, okay? Don't make a big deal about it; I doubt I even knew what the hell I was talking about."

He laughed and kissed me on the cheek, but I was feeling too miserable to tell him off or push him away. "Ahh, I love you so much, Lovi~"

... "L-love you too, bastard..."


End file.
